


Resurgent

by Kaiwren



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz, Criminal Minds (US TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-08 05:57:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiwren/pseuds/Kaiwren
Summary: Spencer never thought his past would catch up to him.Alex never thought Tom would be the brains of the FBI.SCORPIA never forgives or forgets.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Blood and violence warnings.
> 
> Change of name.

Spencer grimaced at the crime scene, the blood soaking into the carpet around the victims head. The body had yet to be removed, but he could already tell this would be no open and shut case.

The victim had been shot in the back of the head, (execution style, a voice in the back of Spencer’s head whispered), but bore the tell tale marks of torture on the torso. Spencer was no expert on torture, but he was familiar enough with psychobiology and current military tactics to know that this wasn’t the run of the mill interrogation. Those, after all, were brutal and violent but gave some feeble attempt to leave few marks aside from mental trauma. 

These marks had no such restraint. 

The cuts were deep and sure, with not a single ragged edge aside from a line by the throat. Burns across their back and shoulders were parallel, clinical. In addition, the victims wrists bore not the friction burns of rope, but the cuts of cruel handcuffs. The victim had probably been captured or restrained by being awoken with a knife to the throat, and had instinctively struggle before realizing the futility of it and surrendering. They’d probably hoped that cooperation would provide a chance to escape, or perhaps the mercy of being left alive. Whatever it had been, it had failed. A bullet taking their life in a desperate attempt for safety would have been much, much kinder than their fate had ended up being. 

Steps behind him announced the approach of a teammate, and Spencer jerked his head up in time to see Derek. 

“Poor guy.” Derek muttered. “He must have been terrified.”

“Uh, Derek?” Spencer started. He ducked his head the slightest bit, unsure of how to continue. “He wasn’t tortured here. There’s not enough blood, and the burns don’t resemble anything in this apartment . I mean, it’s only two rooms plus a kitchen and bathroom. There's not enough blood. There’s also no place or reason to have a fire poker, he doesn’t seem to have had anything for fires at all, aside from the extinguisher. Those burns didn’t come from nowhere. The neighbors should have heard something, at the bare minimum, but all the police statements agreed that they hadn’t. I think he was brought back here after being held and tortured. His neighbors probably wouldn’t have even noticed his absence if his apartment had started smelling so bad.”

“Yeah, Reid. I know.” Derek looked down, clearly uncomfortable with the topic.

Spencer, however, didn’t understand the meaning of the look. “Just, imagine how disconnected your life must be. He- the victim disappeared and nobody noticed. Nobody reported him missing, nothing. Do you- do you think he was lonely?”

“It’s not about how disconnected he is, it’s how connected he was with the people who did this to him.” Hotch’s voice sounded out loudly behind them, unapproving of the discussion taking place in front of two uniformed officers guarding the scene. 

Taking a second glance at the beat cops, Spencer did notice that they looked more than a bit perturbed by the chosen topic. They, too, seemed to hate the idea of being disappeared and not even missed. Well, at least humanity had one shared fear. 

A sharp knocking sound emanated from the front door of the unit, and everybody turned to see two women in coroners jackets standing outside. “Hello, FBI coroners here to collect the remains?” The shorter of the two, with smile lines etched into her face, looked over the grim scene with an empty look on her eyes. Clearly, she too understood the import of the injuries, and knew it was no easy death. She strode into the flat and her partner rolled the gurney in behind, bringing it parallel with the body lying on the living room rug. “Oh, yeah. I’m Dr. Sullivan and this is Dr. Barraza. Like I said, here for the vic.” Dr. Sullivan grabbed the sheet to track those in and out of the crime scene, signed their names onto it, and then pulled out more chain of custody paperwork. “Just sign those, tell me when you’re done. We’ll be out of your hair in no time. Have you gotten photographs, sketches, and measurements yet?”

Her brusque, efficient manner made the team blink, but they continued. “Yes, Ma’am. We’ve also gotten all the samples from the body we need, so you’re free to move him. We’re also looking for a secondary crime scene, if you recover any particulates that can’t be traced to this room.” Hotch said.

“Yeah. Too clean, right?”

”Uhh…” Derek was a bit taken aback at her blasé attitude. Was that how the more experienced people protected themselves? A pure acceptance of how destructive humanity can be, with the accompanying lack of faith in others? 

Dr. Barraza looked up from her visual examination of the corpse. “He has severe lacerations consistent with torture, but the only blood present is by the GSW to the cerebellum, which is also the most likely cause of death. Yeah, he was moved. It’s likely he was also dying of exsanguination, as there’s limited blood drops, wipes or smears.”

Reid nodded. “Yes, I was similarly worried about those. We should have found more blood, or at least recovered something used to clean it up. Whoever this was, they didn’t particularly worry about him dying early.”

“He gave him what they wanted.” Prentiss spoke, aiming her words at the whole group. “Otherwise, they would have gone further. Look, his chest- he’s only got cuts down part of his left pectoral, but on his right side” she pointed it out, a wavering finger proving her point. “There’s nine lines. He broke. They wouldn’t have been so methodical only to totally change their plan halfway through. This was planned, not some half cocked guy out for revenge.”

“Okay, are you done? We’re going to move ‘im now.” Sullivan looked over at them as if she was a general dismissing troops. They nodded to show assent, and backed up a step to give her room.

P“Okay, ready Barazza?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Great. On three, one, two, three, heave.” The two became to lift the body, and an arm flopped over the side, dangling from the corpse. 

“Wait!” Spencer called out.

“What?” Dr. Sullivan looked over at them confusedly.

“Can you hold him for a second? I need a photo- just a second” Spencer mumbled, before grabbing the ruler from Morgan and holding it up to the shoulder of the corpse, and snapped a photo with his phone. “Okay, I’m done.”

“Good. What was it?” Dr. Barraza asked. 

Spencer didn’t reply. The blood rushed from his face as he stared at his phone blankly, unable to stop tracing the outline of the cuts carved into the victim’s skin. The tail of the etching curved up mockingly, red and macabre.

It was a scorpion.

Spencer gagged and retched, the first time he’d lost control of his nausea since he’d stepped into the crime scene. He shoved his phone into the reaching hand of Emily, then rushed outside. In the hallway, he collapsed to his knees, retching and retching despite nothing coming up but his fear and anger. 

“Reid! Reid! What is it?” Hotch had pursued him out the door, clasping a hand over his shoulder even as Spencer leaned against the wall, still crouched down. “Breathe, kid, breathe.”

Spencer pushed an arm against the wall, using it to pull his left to his feet. His weight was slightly leaning against Hotch, but he didn’t try to right himself totally. It’d make no sense; he’d only accomplish falling again. He couldn’t stand up, not when that horrible mark was branded into the skin of the victim who’s house he’d just walked through, an entire life on display and destroyed in the home. The photos of happy, smiling people, a magazine casually placed on the crook of a couch, awaiting the occupant who’d never pick them up again. Who he couldn’t even say was innocent for certain.

Why the fuck had a mid level worker in a political campaign, who’d scored a mildly important appointment as a federal worker filing paowerwork for the FBI, been targeted by goddam SCORPIA? How were they even still operating anyway? Alex had sworn he’d hunted them out. He’d promised that he’d been finished the entire board, Malagosto, and most of their lucrative bases and contracts before either had turned seventeen. 

But now they were in America. In the FBI. They were meant to be safe now.

A shaking hand grabbed the phone from Hotch's pocket, dialing a number on autopilot who’d he never thought he’d call against. Trembling, he raised the phone to his ear, awaiting the click signaling a picked up call.

“Who’s is this?” A voice called over the line. 

“It’s… it’s me, Al. Tom. I need…. I need you and your lot in the states ASAP. There’s a body. It’s….it’s got a SCORPIA mark carved in. Corpse is a little more than two weeks old, but the mark was cut in pre-mortem…. like right before death.” Spencer regained his mental footing as he ended the statement, hating the old name he’d had to use. He’d changed his name when Jerry had died, after his mother’s injury, when they’d been moved to the US by one of Alex’s contacts. Tom had been grateful to no longer be Tom Harris. Being Spencer Reid was so much simpler.

“Okay, I’m coming. Where are you? Are you safe? I can have a squad collect….”

“No. I’m fine. Besides, I’m FBI anyway. We’re in LA, I’ll give you the address we’re staying at. It’s a hotel, three stars, cameras everywhere. We’re fine. I’m with Prentiss- remember her? And Derek Morgan and Hotch and JJ. Just, get here. They won’t really understand what we’ve landed in, not even Prentiss. Please, Alex.” Spencer clenched his fist, unhappy at his inability to predict the next move. SCORPIA was no enemy he knew how to plan against. 

“Okay, I’m coming. I’m bringing my team though, so get the rooms next to yours. It’s the six of us. We’re headed to Heathrow ASAP, we’ll land at LAX in about eighteen hours. Private plane, we’ll contact you.” Alex's voice remained monotone despite his evident worry, as usual hiding his fears. 

Spencer caught the underlying warning, though. Watch your backs. Beware of those who seek to join the team for any reason. Don’t move without me. 

Nowhere is safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of violence, false deaths, cover ups, murder, and injury resulting in physical and mental disability, as well as memory loss and issues relating to that.
> 
> A not very explicit panic. 
> 
> Spencer’s history is revealed, and it’s juicy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, I know this chapter took a while. Sorry about that!

The warmth of Hotch’s body pressed against Toms fear-chilled body, and he slowly relaxed into the embrace. Hotch was like a strong,kind uncle, and Spencer, who had never had a family he could trust outside of Alex and Jerry, was unable to deny himself the meager comfort Hotch could offer. He wanted to hide his face into his suit jacket like a child, but he held himself back and pushed slightly at Hotch’s arm. As he uncurled, Spencer kept his gaze directed at the floor, not wanting to see when Hotch inevitably grew angry over the secrets he had kept. He hadn't been truthful with his own team, and now it had come back to bite him in the butt. Spencer could only hope that the other agents would give him the bare minimum of trust necessary to save their lives, now that he had probably tangled them in he and his family’s mess. 

‘Alex’s mess’ a nasty voice in his head whispered, ‘if Jerry had never known Alex he never would have been caught up with terrorists’ NO, Spencer screamed to himself. ‘Jerry chose to do business with SCORPIA- he brought his fate on himself.’

‘And you?’ The voice continued. ‘Would you not still be in England if not for him?’

‘Jerry would have done the same thing. He chose to run to Italy. They would have gotten rid of me as a loose end when he chose to help Al instead of turning him in, anyway.’ Spencer reassured himself, faltering as he thought about his beloved brothers prominent role in the formation of his new life. ‘Al didn’t have a choice. Jerry did.’

“Reid? Reid, you there?” Hotchner was sounding a bit panicked, Tom observed faintly. 

“Yeah?”

“You okay? What are you feeling, kid?”

“If someone disappears, and there’s no one to miss them, is it meant to hurt so much?”

“Reid, what prompted this? What was that call about? You can tell me, it’s just normally the supervisors of agents in witsec are given a slight briefing, if they weren’t directly shipped to a flyover state.”

“I- I- SCORPIA. The mark. I knew about them, it didn’t...it didn’t go well for the people I knew involved.”

“What, were your parents involved with them or something?”

“No, Hotch. My brother, an’….”

“And who, Spence?” Derek had appeared in the hallway, his eyes once again hidden by his glasses. 

Spencer glanced upwards, then resumed gazing mindlessly at the floor. “A dear friend. He didn’t- he was a good person. He wasn’t so pleased with being mixed up with them, but he survived.” A barking laugh erupted from his mouth, hysterical and uncontrolled. “He fucking thrived, he did. Became their best and then tore them down, brick by fucking brick. Or bullet by bullet, I ‘spose. He was fond of his explosions too, got that from his bastard of an uncle.”

Spencer slammed his fists against the carpeted floor, the solid contact not giving him the pain- the control- he wished for. “He said it was goddamn over. He promised. Said he’d hunted down all their lairs and bolt holes, then burnt them to the ground for good measure. He promised. He never broke a promise to me.”

“C’mon, Spence, just tell me what’s up. Why’s this mark mean so much? It’s just a terrorist group, why would they come back you now? Spence, you’ve been with us for years, now. To them, you’re old news.” Derek was trying to be reassuring, but it still made Spencer snort, for all the good it did.

For all that Alex had sought to shelter him, he still knew SCORPIA’s motto by heart. 

SCORPIA never forgets. SCORPIA never forgives.

The hard truth spilled over his lips. “There is no too old to be dangerous to them. Or young. Their reputation was damaged, so now they will do anything to improve it. Literally anything. My name was Tom. I was just feckin’ fourteen. I was fourteen and my brother left me for Italy. He learned parkour, you know? As stress relief. Got really good at it, too. Until my friend found out that parkour was just a pretty euphemism for all sorts of shite. Weapons smuggling, theft, drugs- my brother ran them all for SCORPIA. In fact, that’s how they funded their bigger operations before they got payment, or if they were doing it as enforcement. ‘Side from the above board businesses used as fronts. They were usually fairly successful, though, SCORPIA was not one for wastes. They took special offense when someone turned against them. My buddy, his dad was found out as a traitor and they killed him, him and his wife. My guy only survived ‘cause he wasn’t where he was meant to be. But, you see, his dads betrayal wasn’t big news, they kept it kinda quiet ‘cause he was decently high ranking and respected. So, he was able to go undercover without bein’ suspected- that’s what he tol’ me. So he went, an’ got a ton of information an’ also took advantage of the trainin’ they gave ‘im. Turned him bloody feckin’ dangerous, it did. He’d always been good at combat, but after them ‘ee were sommat else. But aft’ tha’, he was a marked man, and everyun’ knew it. So he kept goin’ on missions, so he’d move around fast enough to keep ahead of them. It didn’t really work all the time, but enough to keep him safe. An’ I was happy for tha’. Truly was. But then, there was also the matter of my brother. He’d helped get Al inta Malagosto, ya see, n’ somehow, SCORPIA found out.”

“Wait - What?” Prentiss had also joined them in the hallway, and seemed shocked at his confession. Grimly, he wondered if she’d started piecing together the story. 

“SCORPIA found out. We didn’t know, not until I got home to find my brother and father, both dead. Somehow, my mum had managed to get away long enough for the response team to save her. But- she wasn’t the same afterwards. Mum developed secondary parkinsonism and dementia from a TBI. Now, now even when she says something true we can’t tell her that she’s remembered right, because if she says enough, she’ll connect us to who we were before. I, I can’t.. I hate looking at her when she says something we both know to be true but I have to deny it. It’s horrid. I wanted to get out. I just wanted it to be over, and I didn’t particularly care how. So when I saw Al next, I asked for a new life. He put us both as dead in the attack. We have caskets and all, you know? Our graves aren’t even empty- they used some unclaimed bodies to fill them. I ‘spose it’s a nicer fate than being cremated and coldly disposed of, at least. Then he called in a favour, had us shipped over here. Put me in college and the Academy concurrently, and her in a nursing home, to protect both of us. Anyone searching would have looked for a pair, not two individuals. Not an FBI agent, especially. Cause of my family and Al, we didn’t have a whole lotta trust in any alphabet shite. We had no reason to. S’not like they’d ever given up much protection unless we had sommat they wanted. But after that, we had to. An it worked out. They assigned me BAU cause they thought if I started to break or go off the rails, you’d notice it quicker and help me. Also cause Byrne, the paranoid assfuck, didn’t really know what to make of me.”

“Wait what the- Al? Byrne?” Prentiss gaped, examining his face closer.

“Not me, Agent Knight, Al. Cub. Devil, Hunter, Orion- whatever the fuck he’s going by today. I don’t even look like him! Why do you people assume he can be anyone in a room? I mean, he’s good, but he’s got some limits.” Spencer looked around with a distinct devilishness he hadn’t openly displayed since the last time Ian had taught him and Alex how to build homemade ‘fireworks’. “Don’t worry, you can reunite with him tomorrow. He wants to know who did this, and he’s bringing his team. Including his dad's apprentice, so please don’t shoot his face off when you see his ugly mug. Al would take a bit of offense to that.”

Prentiss pressed her lips together firmly. “If he moves against us, I won’t hesitate. With him, if you wait-“

“You’re too late. I know, but I’ll also vouch for him. He wouldn’t do anything to piss off Al, and he’s been working with him for a while. Just, trust us?” 

“Fine. For you, Tom. Only because you’re like the weird little brother.” Prentiss smiled. Spencer wondered again if she’d also got a new name, or if she’d always returned to her original persona, with not enough left to lose to bother hiding.

“Spencer, please.” Tom’s voice broke a little, and he hated himself for it. “I… Spencer is so much nicer than Tom. Please?”

“Of course, Spence.”

It suddenly occurred to Spencer that he hadn’t yet pushed off of Hotch, and he did so with a blush. He realized that tears had also dripped down his face as he’d spoken, and he wiped those off with a pained chuckle. Hotch kept his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, and Spencer found he didn’t yet have the heart to remove it. 

“Let’s just… let's just finish and go to the hotel, okay? I’ll be fine. I need to get the rooms close to us, anyway. I can cry later. Work now.” Spencer waited for Hotch to tighten his grasp around his shoulder and then loosen it, dropping his arm to his side. He took his satchel back from Derek with a nod, and accepted his phone from Prentiss with a wan smile. He looked down at the screen, still open to the photo he’d taken. Eugh. He shook slightly as he forwarded it, first to Alex and then to the BAU group chat. He didn’t want to have to look at it any longer than necessary, so hopefully they’d print the photo off, save it to a hard drive, and then he could delete it permanently. He hoped. 

The team walked out of the building in formation, leaving the policemen still guarding the flat. They’d be back whenever Alex’s team arrived, but it held no more secrets for them at the moment,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Jerry wasn’t canonically involved with SCORPIA, but I’ve always found his sudden move to Italy, uptake of Parkour and knowledge of Venice a tad weird, so.... sorry Horowitz. He chose to help Alex in the end though? I also did need something to strengthen the tie between Tom/Spence and SCORPIA, and Jerry was the easy way out.
> 
> Also, if you’re wondering, yes- Agent Prentiss is Agent Tamara Knight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vomit, puking, drunkenness.
> 
> Idk about the second half of this chapter

Spencer sat at the end of the hotel bar, his drink mostly untouched. As he swished it lazily in the glass, he realized he wasn’t quite sure what it was. It was a light yellow-brown, and he could smell the alcohol even as it was nowhere near his nose.

Hazily, he also noticed that his tongue too, tasted of alcohol. The money he’d put out in front of him had also disappeared- probably into the till. Shit. He hadn’t checked the exact value, but it was a little more than was required to get him deeply fucked up. He put his feet onto the floor, trying to prove to himself that he still retained enough control to walk to his room unaided. As he lifted his arm up though, putting all his weight onto his feet, his head spun and the ground dipped way from him. He tried to move his feet to balance himself, but the ground moved away from him. With a wild grab, he managed to grasp the metal bar by his stool, and dragged himself back to his stool, desperate not to fall and look like a kid getting drunk for the first time. Hotch would kill him if he had to pull his ass out of a bar, especially after today’s revelations.

Hotch knew ... the whole team knew…. he was going to get reamed tonight when he got back, regardless of what they said. They wouldn’t just forgive him, surely.

He chucked hysterically, at least they wouldn’t know which name to use!

As he did so, he threw his head back, amused at his own hilarity, before realizing there was no back to his chair. Swinging his arms wildly, he began to fall off the chair.   
Spencer gasped ineffectively, desperate to say something -anything- to call for help before he gave himself a concussion, but no sound emerged. 

Luckily, a warm arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him back into an upright position. A sharp shriek rang out, and it was only the mild wince he felt from whomever had him that told him that he, Spencer was indeed the origin of the noise. Well, after the case he’d probably not return for some while, so Spencer supposed it didn’t fully matter. He turned muzzling, intent on thanking whomever had saved him, and froze. He knew that face… it was a woman, with cropped, brownish-blonde hair, and pale brown eyes ... the world spun for a second, and then refocused on the object of his gaze.

Spencer blinked again.

“Hi Doc Sully!” He slurred out.

“Dr. Sullivan, Agent Reid. But I’m just here to relax right now, so call me Amy, okay? How much you had to drink tonight, huh?”

“I don’t know. Annie. I think- I’m here for a good time too! I can’t give you one, though… I’m not good at it. I’m sorry. I just wanted to relax. Anime, Annie, what happens when people meet old friends they never go to say goodbye to? Annie, I want to see Al!”

“Amy, Reid. Who’s Al, huh? I’m with my partner, but she’s off getting us drinks. Is Al gonna pick you up?” Sully- Dr. Sullivan, Amy, Spencer reminded himself, Amy, looked kindly at him, then motioned to a glasses wearing woman in grey jeans and a pale green button down. “Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite. Well, you at least!”

“Al… Al is the fucking world. He’s just… him. He didn’t smile much after his uncle but he’s just… he’s … just it, ya know?” Spencer drunkenly waved at the same woman Amy had. “He’s so great but… I left. It got and I ran with my mum. He knew, but he’d never been the one to run, he can’t run fast enough. I… what does he think of me? I can’t lose him. I just can’t. We don’t get to talk but he’s still… he’s my past.” Spencer paused, then looked at her with wide eyes. “I don’t want him to stay in the past.”

“Al’s yours, huh? Is he coming down? We can introduce him to my wife, Allie, if that’s okay with you.”

“Naw, I dunno when he’s coming. Said eighteen hours nineteen hours ago.” Spencer began to pout, dismayed at the prolonged absence of Alex, despite not having solid, regular contact with him since Tom escaped and ran to America. In his inebriated state, the pain resurged out of the mental closet he’d shoved it all in, desperate to never have to feel the loss of family again.

“He’ll be fine, Spencer. He's flying in, right? He’s probably just getting a car or got stuck in customs- he’s going through LAX, yeah? The new Bradley building is a terror to get through, and the TSA is fond of random searching anyone they can. He’ll be fine. It’s not like it’s his body I picked up today.” Dr. Sullivan smiles grimly- after all, she’d only just flown through LAX to Heathrow, and could swear that security had taken almost as long as the actual flight, with more trouble to boot!

Spencer looked up, terror flirting across his face. “What if he’s not coming? What if he’s given up on me? What if they got him, what if six told him to forget me? What if….. am I dead? I’m dead, right? I think I saw my burial….. I remember my grave, it was sunny when they buried me- the first sunny day all year…” Spencer looked through Dr. Sullivan in horror as he, drunk and depressed, considered the true fear of nonexistence. He turned back to the bar, tapping the glass-covered wood and running his hands against the bar top as if he could reach through it and pull beers back through it.

Amy gaped in fear of what she had done, having forgotten the first lesson of philosophy- never introduce a drunk man to the theory of immaterialism! She quickly recovered, however, and spit out “Well, if I was dead- which I’d have to be to hold you like this, if you were also dead, no insult intended but I’d have designed a much nicer bar. Look at this! The floor is tiled, the posters ragged but not nice enough to be up for the aesthetic- it’s a bit of a dive for a four star hotel. Mind you, it’s much nicer than most bars, but still. I have expensive tastes, which don’t get fed with my city coroners’ position.”

“But… I’m dead?” Spencer mumbled.

Amy signed deeply, restraining herself from screaming. “You are alive. I’m quite sure of it, especially as I specialise in dead people.”

“You’re a God!” Spencer’s brain, marvelled at by many of his professors, had officially broken.

“Oh for fu- No. I’m human.”

“That’s what a god would say, my Lady.”

Amy sighed, then signed “I’m taking care of the idiot.” to her girlfriend. Allie looked up, rolled her eyes, but gave the drinks back to the bartender and walked over.

“Well, if I am, can you guess which room you’re in?” Amy smiled deceitfully as she raised an eyebrow at Allie. She really hoped it worked, otherwise she’d be tending a drunk tonight, instead of having a good time with her partner.

“Yeah- it’s room 481!” Spencer smiled broadly, certain in his drunken stupor that he’d gotten it right. 

“Great, you sloshed motherfucker. I’m taking you to your room.” Amy hauled him to his feet, and Allie quickly steadied Spencer as he swayed.

“Whaa- I’m- I’m just having a good time!” Spencer indignantly attempted to make his point, but was refuted by a singular raised eyebrow from Allie.

“No, you’re so drunk I’d pump your stomach myself if I were in charge. Lucky for you, I’m not, so I shall just take you back, okay?” Allie wasn’t having any of his shit, having seen enough drunks in the ED* to know when to cut one off from the drink. “Understand?”

“Ugh- Yes, ma’am?” Spencer voice tapered off into a question, but Amy and Allie didn’t respond, opting to instead drag him to one of the nearby elevators.

Spencer was silent the entire way up in the elevator, his paling face and mild hand tremors telling the two watching women all they needed to know. He wasn’t going to be able to be left alone during the night, and possibly into the morning.

The elevator announced their arrival to Spencer’s floor with a soft ding. Spencer threw his head up to stare at the doors, and winced as a new wave of dizziness washed over him.

Spencer bolted out of the elevator, but tripped over the divot between the landings and fell into the table in front of the elevators. His head spun again, and his throat began to burn. Panicking, Spencer tried to swallow his bile, but the taste continued to pervade his mouth.

A hand shook his shoulder, so he quickly turned his head to hide his face from Amy and Allie- he didn’t want anyone to see what he looked like. His throat kept burning, and he opened his mouth to burp the smallest part. 

Vomit spewed out of his mouth, coating the carpet and table surrounding him. Letting out a quiet groan, he dropped his head to rest on his arms. The hand had stopped shaking him, instead softly rubbing his back in circles. However, it pulled back as the sound of boots echoed in the hallway. 

“Spencer?” The voice, deep and curious but lacking the normal harshness it could summon up warmed Spencer up, even before he shot a hopeful look through dazed eyes.

“Al? al….I missed you……” Spencer’s voice trailed off as he grinned lazily. 

“Goddammit, Spence, why’d you do this? I told you I was coming! A three hour holdup, we just had a bit of a scuffle with TSA, come on.” Alex was not pleased with Spencer’s drunkenness- has he not warned him of danger mere hours before?

“You never tell me! What if you died? I’d never- no one would know. You’d not even die under your own name!” 

“Spencer… Spencer, we have a system to tell you if I ever die, okay? And I have no plans to ever do that, come on.” Alex clasped an arm around Spencer, and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, I’ll take you to my room. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? It’s fine, okay? You’ll wash your mouth out in a sec, were just gonna open the door, okay?”

Spencer waved dopedly at Amy and Allie, and grumbled out a few garbled words of thanks, even as another round of bile spewed forth from his mouth. 

Alex followed his example, thanking the pair before dragging Spencer off to his room, leaving part of his unit to call housekeeping to clean up the mess.

Internally, Alex groaned. After an eleven hour flight, all he wanted to do was sleep, but now that was most likely not an option.

Cradling Tom- Spencer, now, in his arms, Alex smiled down on him. At least he’d be able to see and talk to him now, instead of rushed sentences exchanged over various iterations of burner phones. Maybe he could even visit him often, as his cover was now known. Maybe Tom could finally accept his past and present, instead of simply repressing his past in hopes of an easier integration.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triggers- guns are mentioned.
> 
> Sorry this took so long! I’m working on the next chapter, but this is a bit of filler.

Spencer muttered unintelligibly as Alex tucked him into the king bed next to the door. He’d already drawn the curtains on the sole window, as he didn’t want anyone to see- or shoot- through it. He’d booked two double rooms with an interconnecting room, but had put the old K Unit in the other room, two to a bed. Wolf and Snake snores like old men- he was perfectly fine with sharing with Yassen and having a longer watch over listening to snoring all goddamn night. With a soft look, Alex tucked another pillow under To- Spencer’s head, and tilted his head at a downwards angle. He wasn’t going to risk letting Spence choke in the night- even though someone would be awake all night, he still didn’t want to deal with it. Yassen passed behind him silently, almost unnoticeable. Despite the close spaces they often had to share on missions, Yassen had perfected being there-but-not, allowing both to decompress despite having nowhere to go alone. 

A knock resounded on the door in between rooms, before Wolf stepped through. He wordlessly passed them both badges, as well as an ID for Spencer in case the BAU team took the revelation badly. It wasn’t predicted, but if his team retaliated against him, Spencer would have an easy way out. Snake followed behind Wolf, pausing to check Spencer’s heart rate and breaths. Alex smiled at them, glad for the show of affection for the only person left from the remnants of his innocent childhood. Tom has lost everything- including his sense of self, his humour, and most of his family, because of Alex. Tom has always refuted that, saying it wasn’t his fault. Saying that Alex hadn’t killed them, had tried his best to protect him, and that if Jerry hadn’t become involved with SCORPIA, they’d probably have left Tom and his entire family alone. 

Alex was never able to completely buy it, or absolve himself of his feelings of guilt. He’d even gone back to Church, asked for forgiveness, prayed every day, but it still hadn’t happened. He’d only become disillusioned, tired, and more than a bit atheistic. He’d finally understood why Ian had only dragged him to Church until he’d been able to appear as if he perfectly belonged there. Having someone tell you that God forgave you never really worked when you did it under a fake name, far away from anyone who might know about what he’d done, or his work history. He’d finally been pulled out of his apathy when Jones, who’d taken over Special Operations after Blunt’s sudden… demise had offered him a place on an interagency task force. He’d been pleasantly surprised when she’d said Fox would be joining them, and had gotten her to agree to accept Yassen as an asset on the team when he’d fled SCORPIA. Privately, he’d told her he knew about Six contracting Yassen when they had a problem they couldn't deal with, and wouldn’t it be so much easier if those could be dealt with in house, instead?

Finding out K unit would be comprising the half of the unit made up of SAS had been surprising, but their faces realizing that little ickle Cub was also Orion, Devil, and a host of other code names and unspecified identities had been entertaining. It earned him respect as well, especially when they trained at Brecon Beacons and he beat all of them, barring Cossack, in target practice. They’d had quite the week, challenging every Unit to a sniper battle against little Cub, before claiming the majority of the other’s cash after they’d lost their bets.

Unfortunately, they’d wisened up quickly and K Unit had run out of idiots to run their schemes on. Their bonding and training had gone well, and even Yassen had been mostly integrated into the unit… somehow. Privately, Alex suspected Stockholm syndrome or poison, but he wasn’t sure which one was more likely. 

Alex felt a light shove in his side and twisted sharply to glare down Eagle. Unrepentant, Eagle grinned slightly before lowering his head, as if attempting to be subtle. “The feds want to speak with us. Also by the way, whos the angry worried lady? I said Cossack and she flinched hard. What is she, a ex-guard for a target of his?”

“I dunno, but hush up- Wake up Spencer and you’ll take watch the entire night.” Alex responded, then nodded to the team and led them out of the room towards the rooms claimed by the feds. 

Alex, taking point, knocked on the door. The three SAS and Fox were standing side by side, nearly standing at ease. Yassen was at the rear. Alex threw another glance back, checking that Yassen was visible, but not enough to be a good target. After all, Agent Knight had been quite reliable. He’d hate to have to take her out for killing Yassen.

Alex turned back to the door. He quickly double checked the room number, on a dark brown faux wood siding with plastic gold lettering. 481. No more need to delay. Alex raised his fist, and rapped sharply on the door twice.

Footsteps scuffed against the carpeted hotel floor- did these feds ever take a lesson on subtlety? The door swung open with a soft whisper of the hinges, and multiple pairs of eyes stared at the Unit. 

Alex quickly counted them off in his head. Hotchner- lead. Jeniffer Jereau, media consultant. Derek Morgan, second in charge. Emily Prentiss, organized crime and international affairs consultant. Spencer was in his room, and their computer specialist, he was pretty sure it was something Garcia? had been listed as still at Quantico. Five agents, one tech, all accounted for. 

“Hello. I am Orion, and this is Wolf, Eagle, Snake, Fox and Cossack. Spencer requested me when he discovered the markings on the body?” Alex began. He wasn’t about to give them his actual name, so hopefully they were aware of the Orion call sign. Prentiss would probably tell them about call sign Cub, but she hadn’t been given much information on him during that affair, so her knowledge was most likely still quite limited. He turned back to his team. “Fox, Eagle, return to guard Agent Reid.”

“Yes, Sir.” Fox nodded sharply and they turned back to their rooms. 

“Why’d you send, uh, Fox and Eagle back?” Agent Hotchner asked.

Alex eyed him, a bit miffed. “Spence is drunk and unconscious. He also happens to be a witness in a location where SCORPIA agents are known to be active. I’m not leaving him unguarded if we can simply brief all three of them later.”

“So you’re saying that he’s your protectee, now?” Agent Morgan clarified. 

“No.” Cossack interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Firebug hates being a protectee. That’s why he’s here- he didn’t want to be under guard for the remainder of his life. It’s just protocol for us. Snake is our medic, so he’s necessary to understand the injuries inflicted on the witness. I’m the most accustomed to enhanced interrogation, as both the subject and the interrogator. Wolf is in charge of the SAS side of operations, and Orion is in charge overall.”

“Firebug?” Agent Knight- Prentiss, scoffed.

“Don’t knock the name until you’ve seen him listing all the fun sorts of things he can make with twenty minutes alone in a Home Depot. Or cleaning cupboard, for that matter.” Wolf snarled.

Alex smirked. “Besides,Tamara, if anyone, you should be the one on the hook for a weird and non-descriptive code name. Seriously, Knight? With that spelling? I’m surprised none of the squids got caught joking about it.”

“It’s Prentiss. Pren Tiss. That was a one off. It’s probably still an example for why we don’t let interns create identities without oversight.” Agent Prentiss rebuked. “Besides I’m with the FBI now. You might as well call me Emily.”

“Sorry, we didn’t want to look too comfortable, Emily.” Alex flicked his eyes over her, and back to her team. One of the men- Morgan, his name was, looked liked he was about to explode if he didn’t get an explanation. The lead agent, Hotchner, didn’t look so interested though. He’d probably learned that even in federal agencies, sometimes you just don’t need explanations. 

Emily leaned against the wall, the first move to relax she’d made since the door opened. “Yeah, well, I’m guessing that they won’t care about our comfort. Do tell, I’d almost accepted the rumours of their destruction. They all said you’d been rather instrumental.”

Alex blinked painfully, and strode past her to collapse into the bog standard rolling chair. He swore that every Marriott had the same damn one, and it was always just as uncomfortable. “I like to think that they were getting a bit big for their britches, and permitted a bit too much infighting.”

“Uh huh, sure. Infighting definitely covers killing Rothman with a hot air balloon.”

“Well, what can I say,” Alex smirked. “I really flattened her ego.”

“You’re terrible.” Emily smiled, and dropped her head forward for just a second. Score! She’d relaxed once again. “And I suppose the other times were similar accidents?”

Alex’s eyes flashed, and he opened his mouth to spout off another sarcastic comment as Cossack shifted behind Snake. Emily started, and her hand dropped to her belt instinctively.

The entire room tensed, each agent reaching for their own weapons, safeties clicking off and eyes sharpening. Alex scrambled to his feet, not bothering with his own handgun as he screeched. “Stand down! Stand the fuck down!” He threw out a hand, twisting the gun closest to him out of its wielders’ grip and spinning it into his own palm as he used his left arm to shove Wolfs’ gun arm downwards. He kept his newly acquired gun pointed at the floor, even as he registered the grip. A Walther? Really? He was never going to let Emily live this down. “Right-o, calm down please. We agreed no murdering each other, Emily, back me up.”

The surrounding agents didn’t quite freeze, in the manner that jelly never quite reaches a full freeze: they merely slowed down, started to take stock of who they had been second prior prepared to shoot- and cause a major diplomatic crisis, as Alex’s team had technically been invited by the American government… yay diplomatic status. Agent Hotchner seemed to come to the same conclusion as Alex- they’d nearly ruined U.S.-U.K. relations, and with a sharp snap in his voice, ordered his agents to holster their guns. Alex quickly followed suit, ordering his men to stand down.

Well, except Cossack, who hadn’t even bothered pulling his own array of guns, and stood there aloof as if none of the hullabaloo had even happened. Or, alternatively, as if it happened every day and he was sick of squabbling school children pulling guns on each other for moving too quickly. Alex clicked back on the safely on Emily’s gun, then twisted his hand so he could stare, mesmerized, at the small pistol. 

“A Walter PPK, Emily? I know you’re American but surely you weren’t imitating a certain Englishman?” Alex quickly safetied it, and passed it back over to Agent Prentiss. 

Emily huffed dramatically, perfectly happy to accept a bit of ribbing to reduce the tension in the room. “It’s useful, Alex, besides, didn’t you have one when we first met?”

“Nope. Wasn’t permitted lethal weaponry.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I remember one of the after action reports I accessed mentioning you shooting a certain Prime Minister?”

“Well, circumstances change, but at the point I promise, I was restricted,” Alex hissed the word, “from any weaponry they deemed lethal.”

Emily blinked ever so slowly, took a deep breath, and consciously relaxed the muscles she’d tensed at those words. “Sometimes, I am glad that Blunt is dead.”

“Trust me, it’s mutual.” Alex's grin was just a bit sharp, just a little too feral to be wholly innocent- but well, Blunts’ death inquiry had turned up quite the queue of willing but mostly innocent suspects. No one had taken it too seriously, even previous to Smithers and Crowley’s interference. “Now, shall we get to all the technical bits?”

“Of course,” Agent Hotchner said as he turned to pull a few files out of his bag.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposition, characters adjusting to a new name, and identity confusion.

Passing the files about, Hotchner started on his explanation of the case, but Alex quickly butted in.

“No, there’s no way this was just clean up duty. This was targeted, either he was messing with their investigation or he was a traitor.” Alex shrugged, “Maybe he just didn’t perform to expectations.”

“Why, though? It’s a bit of a waste.” Hotchner responded, critical of the terror groups' methods.

“Not as you would think of it.” Cossack nodded his head towards Alex. “It’s a warning to others to do better. He might have accidentally let something slip. It wouldn’t be the first time this has happened.”

“What, do you have personal experience with this type of work, Cossack?” Morgan was glaring at Yassen with a challenging stare, but Alex didn’t feel like he could disregard Morgan’s point. Hunter had ensured that Cossack was prepared for every and any job he could be ordered to complete.

“Yes.” Cossack met Agent Morgan’s glare with empty eyes. He’d survived. None of the others he’d grew up with had survived, but Cossack had. It’d cost him more than he had originally been willing to pay, yes, but he’d fucking survived and that was all that mattered.

“Look, Morgan, I know you have issues with Cossack, but can we do this later? I don’t have time to get murdered twice.” Alex huffed at the two, if infighting cost him this mission, he’d never forgive either of them. “Back to the files, Agent Hotchner?”

“Er- of course, Officer Orion. TOD was estimated to be around ten days to two weeks prior, based on decomposition, although slight healing of fractures in both wrists indicated that he was held for at least a week, although we do not believe they were caused upon immediate capture-“

Wolf frowned. “When was the last time Mr. Medici was recorded as to have been at work?”

“About a month ago.” Emily creased her brow. “He made a request to use his annual leave. You think they had him as soon as he’d left work?”

Wolf shrugged. “It’d fit. Besides, he gave them something. If he broke quickly, they might have decided to double check whatever it was, or to send an agent to retrieve it before they offed him. I, for one, wouldn’t have disposed of my only lead without making damn sure my bosses would be happy. Especially in SCORPIA.”

“Yeah, they are not exactly the most caring of criminal enterprises, are they?” Emily teased. “But what- or who- did he give up?”

“We’re pulling phone records, financials, all that, but we still haven’t found out. We haven’t found any records of blackmail from either side, but he wasn’t a favourite coworker in the office.” Hotchner sighed. “Unfortunately, he seems to have been a wallflower kind of guy, which cuts down on the number of witnesses to interview, but it also cuts down on the number of useful witnesses. No related disappearances or suspicious deaths have recently occurred, either.”

“Wait, how’d you get jurisdiction, anyway?”

“What?” Wolf and Alex turned to Snake. It was SCORPIA, of course the federal agents would have jurisdiction. Why wouldn’t they?

Snake looked amused at their confusion. “Firebug- Agent Reid, sorry, he was the one to notice the scorpion, right? What you like to call a signature? He's a fed, now. Why were you on scene prior to the discovery?”

Agent Morgan looked like someone had just asked a fish to explain swimming. “Because he’s a- was an important guy in Mayor Greystones’ federal Senate race?”

Emily nearly rolled her eyes. Brits. “It’s suspected he could have surrendered privileged information. Federally classified information, federal investigation. He’d been missing for a few weeks, just no one bothered to call it in. We had the case as soon as a rotting smell was sniffed by the couple upstairs. I have to say, I was a little bit surprised that we were assigned it when it wasn’t serial, but if the Director had an inkling that it might be related to SCORPIA, I’m not surprised that they’d limit involvement.”

“Oh. Right.” Snake was still frowning, but nodded a little to show he accepted their explanation. 

Alex, however, was no fan of this theory. “You think they’re willing to compromise Spence’s cover to solve one murder?”

The room silenced itself, nary a breath to be heard. The BAU agents side-eyed each other, until Jareau leaned forward a little bit. “I’m not sure that your agency was entirely forward with Spe- Tom’s situation. They might have assumed that he had information he wasn’t at liberty to disclose- this would have been an easy way to allow him to tell us, due to extenuating factors-“

“They also might have assumed he’s you.” Emily said bluntly.

“What?” Alex hissed.

“Look, he gets out of situations I wouldnt have bet a buck on, he’s got a stupid good memory, and weirdly specific tidbits of knowledge. He’s even the right age range, and you disappeared about the same time as he did. It would be easy to make the mistake, especially as they wouldn’t have ever seen you in the field.” Emily shrugged. “Hell, I nearly did, at first. But he doesn’t fight like you, even when he finds ways to just pass his field qualifiers.”

Alex’s jaw clenched. “They’re playing poker with his life, and they think he’s their ace in the hole, but two is high.”

“Pretty much.” Emily confirmed delicately. 

“Fuck- fuck this. Fox, Snake, finish this meeting, then meet us back in our rooms.” Alex marched himself over to the door, Cossack silently falling in sync.

“Where are you going?” Wolf shouted as they exited.

“To watch over Spencer, goddammit, before some fucking desk jockey gets him killed!” Alex slammed the door behind him with a righteous thud, and stormed off. 

Behind the slammed door, a somber Snake looked over at the BAU team. “You should be more careful.”

“Is that a threat?” Agent Morgan pushes off the wall he’d been leaning deceptively against.

“No.” Snake sighed, and dropped his head. “Your bosses are playing games, messing with concepts, enemies they don’t fully understand. And they need to learn that Orion isn’t a soldier or an agent first- he’s a survivor. He’s an operative who never had a back up team, or fallbacks, or exfil plans. He’s not like us.”

“But you’re on the same team now.” Hotchner pointed out.

Wolf raised an eyebrow. “That changes little. If shit hits the fan, He’ll deal with it, and then call us in. Your team, my unit, we were trained on the idea of always having each other to protect and be protected. Orion and Cossack didn’t have that until recently, and those are instincts that are hard to retrain.” He ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I’m just trying to say, if your bosses pull shit with Firebug, Orion will protect him and then rain hell on whomever tried to mess with him. I’d back him up, too. You don’t fuck over your buddy, and that’s what your agency seems keen on doing. But Orion doesn’t really have a sense of how far is too far.”

“Like when I dealt with my Interpol problem.” Emily nodded her head in acknowledgment of her past. “I disregarded you guys, I’m still sorry Morgan, because it was simpler to go it alone. I didn’t need to worry about too many moving parts, and did what was necessary for me to come home.” She tilted her head towards Wolf. “You’re saying he’d do the same thing.”

Wolf nodded. “He took down SCORPIA last time just to protect his family. Now, Tom’s all he’s got left- you really think he’d hesitate to burn the whole world down for him?”

“No.” Emily admitted. 

“Don’t forget it.” Snake blinked slowly, before returning to examining the documents in his case file. “You said he had access to top secret information?”

Back in the room, Alex waved away Cossacks‘ concern, instead telling him to get some sleep. Alex would take first watch, with Eagle watching over the sleeping SAS.

Spencer's head was still angled downwards, and Alex nodded as he rechecked the room. A bucket was propped against Spencer’s half of the bed, a closed water bottle and a pack of Advil on the bedside. The lights were dimmed, but not wholly off. He laid a hand against his primary service weapon, but decided against cleaning it then and there. He’d hate to have to reassemble his handgun while someone was attacking the room, if the unit had been tracked from the airport. Worse luck had occurred. He ran a hand through Spencer's beer and sweat soaked hair, before retreating to a shadowed chair to keep watch. 

If a fond smile crossed his face as Spencer unconsciously adjusted his body in deep sleep to get more comfortable, no one was awake to confirm it.

The night passed slowly as Alex forced his eyes open. Jet lag pulled at his muscles, but he forced himself to stay awake. The meager, cramped nap he’d managed in the jet had to be sufficient. Outside, a car’s wheels gritted over the gravel parking lot, and he rose to check out the window, turning his back to the door for just a few moments. Gingerly, he pushed the thick curtain out of way, eyeing a small sedan with its lights on. A woman stepped out, pulling a small boy- no more than six or seven, Alex thought. He relaxed despite having been used as a cover at that age by his uncle. Surely, not all agents could be so heartless? The sound of footsteps also echoed down the hallway outside the rooms, and he upholstered his gun, half-crouching, trying to make out whatever the passers-by were saying. A key card slipped into the electronic locks, but Alex stood up, relaxed. He hostlered his gun as he cracked open the dividing door, and eyed Wolf and Snake as they walked through, shaking his head for Eagle to keep an eye on the corridor. 

“Hey guys.” He whispered.

“Orion.” Snake nodded back. 

Alex eyed the files that were slipped under Snake's arm, and raised an eyebrow to him.

With a silent huff, he passed over one of the packets for Alex’s perusal. Alex gritted his teeth as the dim light restricted his vision, and met Snake’s eyes. “Anything I need to know immediately?”

Shaking his head, Wolf passed. “No- well, actually yes. They haven’t nailed down any people of interest, yet, so we need to double down on Firebug’s identity. They might not have found him yet.”

“Good.” A grin wanted to burst from his face, but he forced it back down. “Any guess as to the information the vic had?”

Snake gave a dismissive hand wave. “They’re cagey about it, but apparently it was to do with ‘classified technology’, but that could be nearly anything.”

Wolf cut in, “I was leaning more towards computers, he had a Masters in Coding certificate displayed on the wall of his home office.” 

Alex nodded approvingly. “Good eyes, Wolf.” He half-turned as he heard a shifting noise from the other room.

A voice floated over from the darkness. “Either hurry up or shut up, I’m not staying up til my watch!”

Alex winced. “Sorry, Cossack.”

“Keep the rest for morning?” Snake tipped his head towards his own bed.

“Yeah.” Alex turned to his bed. “Fox and Cossack are after you lot.”

Alex slid into his side of the bed, again checking Tom’s- Spencer’s now, pulse. Counting the beats, he shut his eyes. Sixty-two beats was good. Wolf would watch over them. He let the darkness take him, and fell deeply into unconsciousness.


End file.
